


you're closer (It's Calming)

by TechnoSkittles



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: 18 here, Alternate Universe - Road Trip, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Second POV, but idk, gets kinda sad/moody so don't read if you're not into that i guess, idk man, it felt fitting here, it's been awhile since I've written in second pov, roadtrip au, so the summer in-between, so they're both like, this is post-high school pre-college
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 12:04:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17580491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TechnoSkittles/pseuds/TechnoSkittles
Summary: "Not everyone needs a reason to run."Everyone has a story. Things that push them to do things.Catra just wants to know Adora's.





	you're closer (It's Calming)

The air in the motel room feels sluggish. The late morning sun shines through faded curtains, drowning the room in dreary browns and greys. Reality hangs suspended in a near-limbo state and you know you'd be more than content to just let the day pass by without moving from the accumulation of warmth of your bed sheets.

But summer is fleeting and you both have a quota to reach, so with a inconvenience snarl, you tear yourself from the covers. As you dress for the day and throw your belongings haphazardly into the beat up duffel bag you brought, you notice that your movement is the only in the room.

In the bed next to yours, Adora hasn't moved. She's scrolling through her phone, thumb swiping almost lazily across the screen.

"Lay there any longer and we'll have to book another night here."

She doesn't respond immediately, rolling her neck lethargically to look at you. Her shadowed eyes stare.

"Yeah," she says, but she still doesn't move.

You're done packing and nearly ready to check out when she finally rolls out of bed. Her feet gently touch down on the floor, her movements so subtle and slow they hardly make a sound. The baggy white tee she wore to bed hangs off her frame hauntingly and even with this image, you can't help but think of how beautiful she is.

You avert your gaze when she turns to face you.

And then she's standing close, her presence desaturated, her warmth muted. "Do you think you could drive today?"

You scoff. You drove all of yesterday. And the day before that.

Instead, "Yeah." And then she's gone, gliding about the room. A ghost-like presence, wandering in an in-between state, face wiped of emotion as she seems to go on auto-pilot.

You collect the keys from the nightstand and wait as she ties her shoes. She stands and you both leave without a word.

The drive is silent. It has been for the past couple of days. Where music normally fills your hearts and paints the summer with joy and freedom is only static.

Annoyed, you tell her to plug your phone into the aux. When she does so, you take it from her and start scrolling through your playlists.

"Should you really be doing that while driving?" You hear the frown in her voice but make a point of ignoring it.

"Shut up." Her mouth clicks shut audibly and that's that.

The first song you select is some upbeat pop song that debuted about a month ago. It grates against your ears and rubs the wrong way in the current atmosphere, so you flick through again, faster, eyes bouncing back and forth between the list and the road.

Eventually you settle on something mellow. Smooth.

It blankets the tension between the both of you. But it's better than silence.

It's a couple more hours before you realize that neither of you stopped for breakfast. You ask Adora what she's in the mood for.

"I'm not hungry."

With a click of your tongue and annoyed twitch of your eyebrow, you decide to turn into the next exit. Down the road, you find some local fast food joint and park the car, giving Adora only a quick glance before you jog in.

When you drop the food in her lap after returning, she stares at it for a moment, a blank stare. Then, obediently she lifts it up and unwraps it, meekly biting into the burger.

You had to guess at what she liked. She doesn't complain.

Eating quickly, you take your empty wrappers and ball them up, tossing them blindly into the backseat to deal with later. You half-expect some reprimand, some biting words about dirtying up her car.

When you turn to look at her, she's not even halfway through her own food.

It's not long after you're on the road again - a few hours maybe - that you decide to pull into a rest area. When you shut off the car, Adora shoots you a concerned look.

"I'm tired. I've been driving for awhile."

She offers to drive in your stead, a shaky hesitance but determined kindness in her tone. You shoot her down just as quickly as she thinks it and climb into the backseat, urging her to follow.

"I think we both need a break."

She watches you get settled with a blanket. Her fingers curl in her lap and when you ask her again, she faces forward. Aggravated and impatient, you tug on her shoulder.

It wasn't a request.

With a roll of her eyes - something that you wished was accompanied by her signature smile - she crawls back and settles on the other side of the seats. When you reach out and tuck her into your arms, she doesn't fight it.

You both lay there for some indeterminate amount of time. Cars come and go. Families traipse around on the sidewalk and grass, stretching their legs and grabbing snacks from vending machines. At point you offer to get her something to which she mumbles a rejection.

Silence dominates the atmosphere again.

Her skin is smooth and you drag your thumb across the skin of her bare arm. "So what's your story?"

Adora doesn't respond verbally, but she does shift in your embrace to give you a questioning stare.

"We've been out here for almost a month now and I still don't know why you wanted to do this."

She shifts again and looks down, tucking her head against your shoulder. Despite everything, you still feel your heart rate pick up and squeeze her tighter in response. She shudders.

"Thought I could use the vacation," she says simply and you can tell from her tone that she wants to leave it at that.

But you know there's more to it. She needs someone to dig deeper.

You're just probably not the one who should do it.

But you're also the only one she has right now.

"Most people who go on spontaneous road trips are running from something," you point out and by the way she stiffens, you know you've hit your mark.

"I don't have a reason to run from anything," she replies. She doesn't deny what you're insinuating. A hand reached out, begging to be held. A voice, begging to be heard. A heart, begging to bleed.

"Not everyone needs a reason to run."

It's silent again and a woman outside has her dog on a leash, tugging on it in irritation, loudly begging it to get back to the car. It strains against its bindings. It yearns to run.

Adora shivers and you pull the blanket around her to tuck her in tighter, even though you know it's not from the cold.

You venture out again, guided only by the thin fishing line you've cast. "Sometimes people run because they feel trapped."

She flinches away and you know you struck a nerve. She yanks herself back, a deep frown and watered-down anger flashing in her eyes. "Cut the shit!" she demands. But she's shaking.

You stare at her impassively and prod the gaping wound again. "They feel suffocated so they do anything they can to get away." Then you lean forward, mouth set in a hard line, analyzing her every movement, piecing together what she's given you to form a malformed picture. "Drowning men will grab anything if they think it will save them."

"What the hell do you know?" Her voice is biting without the venom. Her fists are clenched, white-knuckled and shaking on the car seat. She's falling apart. She has been for days. Maybe longer.

You blow gently. "It's just us. Tell me your story."

Something swipes over her eyes, a metallic glint, a door racing to shut, but the tears are faster. Her lip trembles and her teeth dig in to steady it. Her hair is in disarray; she didn't put it up that morning. You reach out and tuck some behind her ear and the dam breaks. Her hand whips up and grabs at yours, holding it to her cheek as she lets the sobs flow.

You take your fishing line and reel her in and she follows.

And she tells you her story.

All of it.

**Author's Note:**

> just....venting


End file.
